This Week: Czech love songs, a piano trio unbound, and modern jazz chanteuses
George Mraz
Morava (Milestone)
Jazz has always been about interpretation, most commonly of the American popular songbook. Less common but on the increase is interpreting the "songbooks" of other cultures, as pianist Gonzalo Rubalcaba has Cuban folksongs and saxophonist Jan Garbarek has Scandinavian traditionals.
On Morava, Czech-born bassist George Mraz interprets the love songs of his homeland, specifically the Moravian region of the Czech Republic. In this endeavor he is joined by compatriots Emil Viklicky (piano) and Zuzana LapcÍkov� (vocals, cymbalom) as well as American Billy Hart (drums).
Two surprises greet the listener immediately, starting with the first cut, "Aspen Leaf:" the cymbalom (dulcimer) and the Czech vocals. Both add authenticity to the material, while also providing a hint of the exotic to what might otherwise be a traditional piano trio outing.
While the cymbalom has its dulcimer counterpart in the American South, on this recording its sound is less ringing and more sustained, more Dr. Zhivago and less Heartland Series. This difference is manifested on the first tune, as the cymbalom gravely states the theme, with a bassline drone, followed by the Czech lyric of life's autumn.
This tune is followed by "Oh, Mountain," which begins as a love ballad, a duet for bass and vocal, but becomes a swinging celebration for bass, drums, piano, and cymbalom.
Throughout Mraz demonstrates the rhythmic and harmonic sensitivity that have been his signature on dozens of albums as sideman, most famously with pianists Bill Evans and Tommy Flanagan. Viklicky may've never played better (especially on "Myjava") on any recording, from either U.S. or Czech label. Only LapcÍkov�'s vocals are at times thin and lacking confidence, on what is otherwise an unusual but satisfying date.
—Jonathan B. Frey
Keith Jarrett, Gary Peacock, Jack Dejohnette
Inside Out (ECM)
Stravinsky once said that the more art is controlled and limited, the more it is free. Jarrett's Standards Trio has always echoed that idea, discovering new wine in old bottles and stretching the stylistic boundaries of the piano trio in the process. Yet these players are also notorious for their freer impulses; they'll sometimes ditch the tunes in favor of pure group chemistry. Such is the plan with Inside Out, a live program of uneven results.
The first two tracks together run some 40 minutes, and both demand the listener's patience with uninspired, modal water-treading before reaching their respective payoffs—"From the Body" uncovers a distilled melodicism in its final paces, while "Inside Out" morphs into a sweaty blues crawl. These moments of transcended monotony are par for the diamond-in-the-rough course of most free improv, and yet it's as unsettling as it is rare to hear this trio on autopilot.
The disc's second half is much more solid. With lockstep comping and clipped lines, Jarrett builds on Peacock's bass syncopations on "341 Free Fade;" the groove then breaks into abstract mayhem. The abstruse "Riot" finds Jarrett accenting the whole range of the piano over a staggering Dejohnette rhythm; it's tense enough to even put MMW off their bongs. The set ends with "When I Fall in Love," a glorious standard where, if I may pinch a line from an earlier Jarrett review, every note is a new discovery.
—Chris Mitchell
Terrence Blanchard
Let's Get Lost (Sony)
Subtitled The Songs of Jimmy McHugh, this recording offers not only some of McHugh's classic repertoire ("I'm in the Mood for Love," "On the Sunny Side of the Street," the title cut) but also the voices of Diana Krall, Jane Monheit, Dianne Reeves, and Cassandra Wilson, arguably the most prominent chanteuses contemporary jazz has to offer. Equally interesting and refreshing is the CD artwork, which eschews presenting the vocalists in what has become increasingly customary cheesecake fashion, partially clad, cleavage bared, lips parted.
And what a contrast these vocalists present. Krall's characteristically clipped delivery is all understated seduction on the title cut's lyrics. Monheit follows with sweet innocence on "Too Young to Go Steady," her not yet entirely distinctive voice contributing to the tune's poignancy. On "I Can't Believe That You're in Love with Me," Reeves treats the melody to the breadth of her remarkable vocal range, and Wilson is all bluesy throat and growl on "Don't Blame Me."
Amidst the vocals are Blanchard's trumpet lines, accompanying, challenging, interrupting, and alluding (e.g., to Coltrane's "A Love Supreme" on "Let's Get Lost"). His penchant for gliss and stifling half-valve effects parallels the suppleness of his vocalist counterparts.
Also included are several instrumental numbers with Blanchard's standing quintet, most notably "I'm in the Mood for Love." This otherwise worn-weary make-out cliche is wholly reborn, transformed into a driving vehicle for Edward Simon's deft piano and Blanchard's resilient imagination. The same cannot be sad of "Lost in a Fog," unfortunately, where the result is mostly syrupy, thankfully the only tune included here than can be so labeled.
—Jonathan B. Frey
December 13, 2001 * Vol. 11, No. 50
© 2001 Metro Pulse
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